September is a sad month, this year

Financially, we’re in a jam again, but that hardly seems to matter right now.  There are bigger, far uglier fish to fry, this month.

Laurie is in the hospital.  A mental hospital.  She’s supposed to be transferred to another one today.  Our stupid insurance will only pay for a set number of days’ visit, and she has passed that line, so she either has to transfer to another one (thank you to the staff for being sneaky enough to figure out how to accomplish that!) or come home.  She isn’t ready to come home.  She’s having hallucinations, among other things.

On September 7, which was her 52nd Birthday, she overdosed on her meds again, this time on purpose.  It was a suicide attempt.  I feel so hollow, right now.  I wonder if I keep her so unhappy that the prospect of a life spent with me is unbearable.  She said it’s because she hates herself.  And here I’d thought we’d made progress.  Pfft.  Good thing I’m not a licensed therapist.

The other things…..

September 3 was my grandson Isaiah’s 7th Birthday.  As any constant reader will know, Isaiah is out of our reach now.  His mother lost custody of him a few years ago, but he weighs SO heavily on my mind and in my heart.  It was a sad day for that reason, but it got worse. 

Also on September 3, we discovered that Nanny had cancer.  Not just any cancer….terminal cancer.  Stage IV rectal cancer, which has spread to her liver and lungs.  The time they’ve estimated is 6 months left.  The doctors were considering putting a colostomy bag on her, but they decided against it, because she is too weak, physically.  Surgery of ANY kind would very likely kill her.  If it didn’t kill her, they said her recovery would be prolonged and very painful. 

At first, she didn’t seem to be in any pain from the cancer.  She complained about her "rheumatism"….arthritis….but that’s usual.  With the cancellation of the colostomy bag surgery, her time has shortened more.  She is "almost completely blocked", they say, which means that it’s up to nature and God as to when she becomes completely unable to expel waste anymore.  Yesterday was the first dose of morphine. 

Anyone who has read me for a while may be surprised at my reaction.  I am extremely shaken and very sad.  Yes, we’ve had our share of VERY BIG trouble, but she’s still my grandmother, and I still love her.  Naively, I thought since she had lived to the age of 88, cancer…our fucking family curse….would skip her, somehow.  It didn’t, obviously.  

Right now, I am a confused, guilty, insecure MESS.  My wife is in the hospital, and my grandmother is dying.  Nanny doesn’t know, though.  We’ve all decided that since she wasn’t exhibiting any pain from the cancer, plus she’s in a rather advanced stage of Alzheimer’s Disease, we could keep the news from her.  A hospice nurse made the mistake of telling her yesterday that she was not expected to live even six more months.  Nanny didn’t get depressed or down.  She got angry!  She told the woman, "You full of shit, you bitch!"  She’s gonna be herself until the end.

And that end is staring us all in the fucking face right now. 

I can’t afford to go visit my wife OR my grandmother.  Good fucking grandson and husband I am, huh?